


White

by harper_m



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/F, Femslash_today porn battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harper_m/pseuds/harper_m
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cara's trapped and Kahlan's taking advantage. Written for Fireworks 13: Femslash_today Porn Battle. Prompt: accidental bondage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to lettersandsodas for the emergency beta. The porn is much improved as a result.

It’s rushed, always rushed, because they’re stealing moments of time. Stealing more than time, really, because the Seeker waits for them back at the campfire, smiling widely and confident in the knowledge that neither would betray him, and maybe that’s why they end up tearing at one another. Maybe that’s why Cara rarely manages to do more than find her way between Kahlan’s legs through the layers of clothing the Confessor wears, why their kisses are rough and desperate. She’s never been one to complain about an edge of pain, but it seems wrong, somehow, as she tangles her hand in Kahlan’s long hair. Worse still when Kahlan wears her confessor white. Innocence personified, and Cara is leaving her mark on her, beneath the skin and insidious. She has taken something pure and ruined it, and she cannot stop.

“Hurry,” she says, as Kahlan fumbles with the belts and clasps that hold her leathers in place. They are always difficult, made even more so by urgency and guilt, and Kahlan growls, nearly tearing skin on uncooperative metal.

“This would be easier,” she says, taking her frustration out on the skin of Cara’s neck, “if you chose a less complicated outfit.”

It’s meant as a joke, but Cara frowns. She is who she is, Mord’Sith by training and fate, and a change of clothes won’t change that.

“Try harder,” she hisses, pressing her thigh up between Kahlan’s legs.

Kahlan takes it as a challenge. She pushes Cara away and focuses on the straps keeping her from skin, struggling to bear Cara’s breasts. They’re only halfway undone, most still tight, but Kahlan pushes and tugs, forcing progress, and the leather barely clears Cara’s head before becoming hopelessly entangled. She pulls hard, trying to free her arms, but it only makes things worse and she bucks, frustrated; she’s trapped, and her heart starts to race and her muscles to tighten, and panic fills her throat. She forces calm, only somewhat effectively, but Kahlan either doesn’t notice or chooses not to, instead attacking newly bared flesh. She takes Cara’s nipple between her teeth and bites down and Cara arches against her, shameless in a way she allowed only here, only with Kahlan.

“Kahlan,” she says, shoulders twisting as she tries to work her way free. The leather tightens around her wrists and she takes in a sharp breath, thinking of times past. It has been a long time; on the road, sharing the bed of strangers, she doesn’t have the option of vulnerability. Even when she was with her sisters, the opportunity was rare. There were few she trusted, and even then, it was not a desire she harbored often. It took faith of a kind she wasn’t able to give, when every weakness was catalogued for exploitation.

She thinks to force Kahlan’s attention to the problem, but Kahlan seems unwilling to have her attention diverted.

Cara struggles once again, but seems only to draw herself more deeply into the trap.

“Kahlan,” she says again, though with less conviction.

When Kahlan looks up, her eyes are pools of black. The problem isn’t lost on her, but from the way she smiles, it seems she’s in no hurry to remedy it.

“I think I like you like this,” Kahlan says, pressing against Cara and driving her back until she’s against sharp bark. “At my mercy.”

Cara swallows hard, emotion expanding from her throat to fill her mouth. “Free me,” she says, but despite the way her jaw is clenched, the words lack the edge of command. Her eyes touch Kahlan’s and fall, unable to hold her gaze. Something engrained deeply within her whispers that it’s not allowed, that her Mistress has no interest in defiance. Something within her whispers _Mistress, Mistress, please Mistress_.

She can’t even speak Kahlan’s name, not with the word so heavy on her tongue.

Sensing that something has changed, Kahlan pauses. She takes a step back and waits for Cara to meet her eyes, but Cara does not. Cannot. It is an affront, an insult, an honor she hasn’t earned.

Kahlan puts a hand under her chin to urge the connection, but Cara slips away from her so expertly that it could be mistaken as accidental.

“Cara?”

The concern in Kahlan’s voice is irksome. Cara wants to tell her that she doesn’t deserve it, that she has nothing of value to offer other than what’s between her legs, and won’t Kahlan just take her, please? Use her as she has been crafted to be used, as a vessel for her Mistress’ pleasure. She is a slut, a whore, unworthy of Kahlan’s touch yet desperate for it nonetheless, and if she cannot provide even that satisfaction, she should be sent away.

“Cara,” Kahlan says again, her voice soft. She reaches out to brush the hair out of Cara’s eyes but Cara flinches away. Her shoulders are beginning to ache, the pain satisfying a long-forgotten desire, and Cara does not want tenderness. She wants to lose herself in the will of someone who has earned the honor.

“You should go,” she says, her voice a hiss, because there are still some small parts of Kahlan that remain uncorrupted by her influence, and this will steal yet another of them. The entreaty sticks in her throat; it emerges as a plea. “Please.”

She can feel Kahlan’s eyes on her, assessing. It’s with kind eyes, she knows, and caring, but she imagines Kahlan in white leather. She imagines her with hard, satisfied eyes, with her hair pulled back in a tight braid and a crop in her hand, looking down at Cara with approval. It makes things worse, and she bites her lip hard, concentrating on the pain, lest the pleasure seep through.

“I would rather you tell me what you need.”

Cara can’t. That she has fallen so far and so fast into a space only a select few have been able to bring about is yet another thing Kahlan achieves effortlessly. She wants to fall to her knees and offer Kahlan the use of her tongue. She wants to open herself, to spread her legs wide so that Kahlan can take however and whatever she wants. She wants to feel worthy of the honor.

Kahlan is accustomed to looking into people’s souls. Before they’d started this, Cara’s had been closed to her. When Kahlan’s fingers tighten on her chin, forcing her head up, Cara allows that this is no longer the case. She feels laid bare as Kahlan dips her head to force their eyes to connect, read as thoroughly as any of Kahlan’s Confessed.

Before Cara had infected Kahlan with the darkness that tainted her own soul, there would have been no look of understanding flooding into Kahlan’s eyes. There would have been no incipient hunger there either, or the unleashing of something that shouldn’t look so familiar in Kahlan’s sharp smile.

Kahlan tests her hypothesis, movements too calculated to be sure. She slips her fingers into Cara’s hair and pulls hard, yanking her head back, cataloguing each tell with an assessing eye. They’re plainly visible – the whimper Cara can’t contain, the way her eyes flutter shut and her body arches forward, desperate for contact. There’s uncertainty, too, in the way Kahlan’s features are limned with doubt, and if Cara could reassure her, she would. Instead, she remains silent, chest heaving in a way that privileges arousal over the other emotions she refuses to recognize.

She is studied for a long moment; Kahlan searches for guidance in the way Cara looks at her, in the way she radiates need.

It’s a relief when Kahlan smiles a grim smile. It’s over, Cara thinks, and tries not to register the regret she feels. And then Kahlan kneels, her posture oddly subservient, and Cara considers that perhaps Kahlan has misunderstood after all. She fights again to free herself, thinking only of putting distance between herself and coming disaster, and so she is caught off-guard when Kahlan rises smoothly, dagger in hand.

A single, spare move and it’s embedded in the tree’s trunk, flat side up, and still quivering when Kahlan uses it as a hook to suspend Cara’s bound hands. It’s up high enough that any higher would have her on her tiptoes, and Cara stills, startled.

“I want to give this to you,” Kahlan says, each word infused with the truth of the statement, “but only if it’s what you truly want too.”

Cara surges forward to capture Kahlan’s lips in a bruising kiss. Kahlan allows it long enough to find the reassurance she needs, then puts her hand to Cara’s chest and pushes her back hard enough for the rough bark to dig painfully into Cara’s shoulders. She pulls angrily at the ties securing Cara’s pants, impatient now, with fumbling fingers and the careless scrape of short, sharp nails against Cara’s skin.

“I’ve thought about this,” Kahlan admits, her lips by Cara’s ear. She’s breathing hard, and that she wants this too causes something within Cara to overflow. “I’ve wanted it, but I didn’t... I would never take this from you. I could never.”

Cara can hear the shame in Kahlan’s voice, that of an ugly, dark secret spilling forth, and she forces herself to speak. “Take, Confessor.”

She’s rewarded by the sharp sting of Kahlan’s teeth along the curve of her ear, the line of her neck, the base of her throat. Strong fingers dig into her hips, and then Kahlan’s lips are on hers again. There’s nowhere to go between the tree and Kahlan, so Cara gives in. She shivers as Kahlan’s teeth nip, as her tongue declares possession. There are nails sliding up her sides over and over, scoring lines into her flesh. The sounds she makes are soft, needy, womanish. She feels a flicker of shame and tosses it aside because they please. She knows they please, can tell by the way Kahlan touches her as if she has a right to her.

“I know I’m not…” Kahlan begins, her lips again against Cara’s ear. She has her hands on Cara’s ass, rocking Cara against her thigh in short, sharp thrusts. Cara tightens her hands into fists, trusts the strength of the blade to hold her, and brings her legs up, wrapping them around Kahlan. She’s open against the leather of Kahlan’s skirts, grinding shamelessly, and Kahlan gasps in a way Cara knows. She gasps in arousal and surprise, and she moans, fingers digging bruises into the curve of Cara’s ass. “I’m not them,” she finishes, the last word spit in disgust. “You can say no. I only want what you’re willing to give. You’re worth too much, do you understand? No one is going to take anything from you. Never again.”

Cara’s lips twist into a sneer, but Kahlan doesn’t see it. Her head is down, hair tumbling freely, and a second later, Cara feels the sharp bite of teeth against her nipple. She whimpers as Kahlan pulls hard, as the sweet pain spreads through her, and for the first time, she wishes her hands were free. She wishes she could wind her fingers through Kahlan’s hair and pull her closer, wishes she could keep her there until she could focus on nothing other than the pain, climbing ever higher. She’s reckless with it, wanting more even as short breaths hiss from between her teeth and her eyes begin to tear, and she’ll pray to whichever god wants her immortal soul if it will keep Kahlan from stopping.

By the time Kahlan does, her breasts are littered with bite marks, the skin red and aching. The forest echoes with the sound of Cara’s wetness, with the sound of her seeking relief, hips slapping against Kahlan’s midsection. She loses her perch when Kahlan pushes down hard on her thighs; she could have resisted, had the strength to resist, but it’s an order even without the words.

When her feet touch ground, Kahlan spins her roughly. Bark digs into her tender breasts, into the side of her face, and the slack is gone, now. She’s on her tiptoes, struggling for balance as Kahlan urges her feet apart, and manages no more than a stance shoulder width apart.

Kahlan cants her hips back sharply, driving Cara hard against the tree, and has three fingers inside her before Cara can even cry out.

“The first time the thought came to me, I was ashamed,” Kahlan is saying, the words hard to hear over the rush of Cara’s blood. “I was ashamed that I would want to do such a thing.”

Now she’s holding onto the leather binding her hands, biceps flexed as she tries to keep from faltering. With each hard thrust, Kahlan finds the spot inside of her that makes it difficult for her to remember to breathe. She wants to beg for more, wants to goad Kahlan until she’s stretched around her hand, sore and aching and unable to escape it.

Kahlan bites down hard on the back of her neck and Cara’s back arches. She cries out and Kahlan’s fingers move faster. They’re both panting hard with exertion. For a moment, Kahlan’s free hand is between her legs as well, fingers rubbing hard against her clit. A moment later and those fingers are in her mouth and Cara sucks instinctively. She licks the taste of herself off of Kahlan’s skin as Kahlan adds another finger and thrusts hard. She takes it, takes the sting of the stretch and the power of the thrust, her scream muffled by the fingers in her mouth. She loses coordination as the orgasm washes over her; she slumps forward, bark cutting into her skin, and shudders with each movement Kahlan makes.

When Kahlan pulls the dagger from the tree, Cara drops to her knees. She feels empty, bereft, with Kahlan no longer inside her. The feeling ebbs as Kahlan pulls her down to her back. She’s in the leather outfit with the sides slit high, so there’s only a moment of struggle before she manages to separate skin from cloth and then she’s kneeling above Cara and Cara darts forward hungrily. Kahlan’s fingers wind into her hair, and there’s no room for finesse. Her hips are moving with purpose and Cara obliges, her tongue flat and broad. Kahlan falls forward, supports herself with one hand, and Cara takes advantage. She sucks hard on Kahlan’s clit, unrelenting, and Kahlan moves against her in short, sharp thrusts. Cara pulls again at the leather trapping her hands; if they were free, she’d hold Kahlan to her, would never let her go, but Kahlan snaps her hips sharply one last time and rolls to the side. Her body curls around itself as she comes, so close that Cara can feel magic crackling against her like lightning. She thinks it would be worth it, dying, to feel Kahlan against her just once, to feel her shudder and shake and cling tightly, lost in pleasure.

For a moment, both lay breathless. Cara struggles weakly to free herself, but it takes Kahlan’s help before she’s able. She flexes her hands, missing the feeling of entrapment. Missing the submission, the helplessness, the way Kahlan had enforced her will.

“Thank you,” Kahlan says, her hand trembling where it presses again Cara’s cheek.

Cara’s heart swells painfully. She shifts uncomfortably, feeling as if she’s given something away. Given something, she realizes, that was accepted as a gift and somehow treasured.

She moves to stand, to pull on her leathers and escape this clearing and what it means, but Kahlan’s hand on her shoulder stops her. Kahlan moves gingerly, not yet sure of herself, but resolutely. She straddles Cara’s waist and presses her wrists into the soft carpet of the underbrush. Her hair surrounds them like a hood, and Cara’s eyes have no escape. They focus on Kahlan, on the softness in her eyes and the smile on her reddened, swollen lips.

“I’m not ashamed now,” she says, and it takes a moment for Cara to connect the thread.

She opens her mouth to speak, but the word still lingers on her tongue.

Something has changed between them. Something Cara can’t quantify, and she wonders if they were better before, rushed and desperate.

Kahlan kisses her softly. Cara lets her.

“Tell me this is mine,” she says, urgency in her words that is at odds with her soft kiss. “Tell me you’ll share it with no other.”

Cara nods, unable to do anything else. Later, when they’re dressed and on their way back to camp, Kahlan’s gaze falls on her, heavy and possessive, and something in Cara unwinds. It’s warm and dizzyingly freeing, and when the Seeker sees them, wide grin dazzlingly white, she looks away and holds tight to it.


End file.
